


Peiskos

by Cyhyr



Series: SylvixWeek2020 [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, Gift Giving, Grieving, M/M, Mutual Pining, OR IS IT??, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sharing Clothes, Slow Dancing, jk it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26609146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyhyr/pseuds/Cyhyr
Summary: Sylvain pines for Felix. He thinks he's subtle.5 times Sylvain's pining for Felix doesn't *seem* to go anywhere and the 1 time it resolved beautifully.Written for SylvixWeek2020 Day 2: Pining/Longing
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: SylvixWeek2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934302
Comments: 8
Kudos: 87





	Peiskos

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually very happy with how this one turned out.
> 
> Oh, but I'm not confident AT ALL on Dimitri's voice. It's probably totally wrong. It's been a few playthroughs since my last BL one.

Sylvain leaned on the railing keeping the students back from those competing in the tournament, elbow up and his chin propped on his fist. Around him, the other Blue Lions had erupted in cheering and applause as Felix strode confidently back over to them. One more match and he’ll have won. A strong gust of wind blew in through the training grounds, kicking up dust and leaves.

The professor began coaching Felix through his missteps in his last match while Mercedes fussed. Annette and Ashe gushed behind them, going over the exciting parts of the fight. Ingrid and His Highness backed up the professor with their own observations while Dedue watched the crowds.

Sylvain handed Felix a canteen silently—watched a stray drop of water slip past Felix’s lips and trail down his jaw, neck, and settle in his collar. He shifted, dipped and rested his head in folded arms on the rail to hide the flush heating his face. Goddess, to be that drop of water…

“Sylvain.”

He snapped his attention up from Felix’s collar ( _neck, jaw, fuck_ ) and gulped. “Yeah?”

“Anything to add?”

Sylvain lost himself in Felix’s eyes for a moment or two… or three… He then reached out and ran his fingers along Felix’s hairline, tucked a stray lock behind his ear. And then, he picked a leaf out of the messy knot on the top of his head, waved it in Felix’s face, and let it fall to the ground.

“Nah. Knock ‘em out, Felix.”

Felix scoffed and walked away. Sylvain propped his chin back on his fist to watch.

* * *

It wasn’t often that Sylvain needed to _find_ Felix. There weren’t many places inside the monastery that Felix frequented; classroom, training grounds, dormitories, and in rare cases the dining hall. Sylvain asked around, but no one had seen Felix since breakfast.

But that was why he was looking for Felix in the first place. He’d run off after breakfast in such a hurry. Where would he have gone…?

Then Mercedes gave him an odd suggestion. “Have you tried the cathedral?”

“No, of course not,” Sylvain started. “Felix isn’t particularly devout. Why would he go to the—oh fuck, what day is it?” His stomach dropped as Mercedes told him, but he already knew. And sure _Felix_ wasn’t devout but Lady Fraldarius had been.

It took some searching within the cathedral, but Sylvain eventually found Felix in the Saint’s devotion room huddled behind the statue of Saint Macuil. He quietly sat down beside his friend and nudged their shoulders together to assure him he wasn’t alone.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I can’t believe it slipped my mind.”

“She wasn’t your mother,” Felix muttered. “It makes sense, I suppose.”

“She was better than my own,” Sylvain said. He lifted his arm and wrapped it around Felix’s shoulders. “You could have told me.”

Felix leaned into him. Sylvain tried to calm his heart down; it wasn’t the time or place for _feelings_ to hit but, oh, Felix fit so perfectly against his side, tucked on his shoulder. He gave in to himself a little and dipped his nose into inky dark hair to smell cleansing oils and _Felix_.

“I didn’t want to be a bother.”

“You could never,” Sylvain answered quickly. He squeezed Felix tight, and they sat there together for the rest of the day remembering Lady Fraldarius.

* * *

He—maybe—started getting his hopes up after their win at the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. While regrouping afterwards, Sylvain had ridden up next to Felix and offered him a ride back to the professor. Now, Sylvain had offered similar rides in the past and had always been turned down; not that day. That day, Felix shrugged and took his hand, saying, “Sure,” and then swung himself up behind Sylvain as though they’d been doing it for years.

Which, when they were younger, of course they would share a horse as often as possible! Felix didn’t like horses as a kid. But not since Glenn died had Felix accepted a ride, or really any kind of help.

It was nice, though, having Felix’s arms around his waist as they rode across the field. Like nothing had changed. As they stopped to debrief with the professor and the rest of the Blue Lions, Sylvain caught the sly smirks of Ingrid and Annette glancing between him and Felix. They soon separated into marching lines for the haul back to the monastery; Felix, with no battalion to lead, wordlessly stayed on Sylvain’s horse with him while he headed his own cavalry unit.

The sun began to set as the monastery came into view, finally. Felix, over the hours of riding, had relaxed his hold and posture. No longer were Felix’s arms tight around Sylvain’s waist, but instead rested lax about his hips. In the time they’d passed, Felix had pressed closer, enough that his chest rested upon Sylvain’s back.

Sylvain had never before so loathed wearing armor.

He risked placing his unarmed hand over Felix’s, drawing it more into his lap and then putting their palms together. When he wasn’t reprimanded, nor did Felix snap his hand away, Sylvain let himself sigh happily and simply relish getting to hold Felix’s hand.

And then he felt Felix shift ever closer, and then more weight rested along his nape and shoulders. And Sylvain had been wrong; the armor had to go _now_ , so he could feel Felix’s forehead pressed against his back. Though, at least, with the armor on… at least Felix couldn’t hear how fast his heart was thrumming.

* * *

The market was bustling the day Sylvain knew he was going to become a hypocrite. But the dagger was perfect—simple, deadly, balanced, _and_ the blacksmith had pedigree leading from Zoltan. He barely looked at the price, just handed over a bag of gold to the smith and asked it to be wrapped.

Later, pacing outside of Felix’s room, he doubted his judgement. What if Felix had a dagger just like it? He didn’t particularly enjoy having multiples of similar items. Or what if the smith having pedigree from Zoltan wasn’t good enough? The professor had recently given Felix a sword crafted by Zoltan _himself_ ; there was no way he could match that.

He ran his hand through his hair. Stupid, stupid, _stupid._

“Sylvain?”

He looked up, straightened up. “Your Highness,” he stammered. He put the dagger behind his back, like that was going to hide his failure.

“If you’re waiting for Felix, he’ll be along shortly, I believe,” Dimitri said. “He just finished a late training session with the professor and Ashe.”

“Ashe?”

Dimitri shrugged. “Assassin training, I think is what the professor said. Nevertheless. What do you have there?”

Sylvain sighed. “I just. I thought he might like it, but now I’m thinking about it and I’m not too sure.” He pulled the dagger out from behind him, presenting it to the prince.

His eyes lit up, and he grinned. “Sylvain, you should absolutely give this to him. He’ll love it.”

“You think so?”

Dimitri put a hand on Sylvain’s shoulder. “You might be his longest lasting friend, but remember that I was his first friend. We both know him well. And you know as well as I that he will be _overjoyed_ to receive such a thoughtful gift.”

Sylvain laughed. “As overjoyed as Felix gets, of course.”

They shared in their mirth, and soon enough Dimitri retired to his own room. Sylvain, confidence restored, straightened up and brightened his smile as Felix appeared at the end of the hall.

* * *

As the weather cooled, Sylvain finally felt comfortable again. Being so far south was hell on his ability to self-regulate his own body temperature. Most of the Blue Lions found themselves comfortably bundled in the open-air classroom; Sylvain was the only one who outright refused to wear the heavier uniform coat. It was beautiful out. Brisk. Cold. He wanted to wear the summer uniform just for more air.

Felix, though, didn’t see it that way. He had early morning sparring sessions with the professor; and while he was warm during the actual training, sitting in the classroom for hours afterward caused a chill to set in after the first week, even with his own uniform coat zipped up tight.

Sylvain tried sitting closer to Felix during class, to let Felix share body heat if he wanted. But it seemed that Felix was only content to be that close if he knew no one was watching or was bone tired.

So instead, Sylvain suffered the morning for the sake of love. He wore his heavy uniform coat to class (sweat the whole time, goddess why would anyone _live_ this far south), took it off ( _fuck_ sweet relief), and placed it over the bench between where he and Felix would sit. When Felix joined him for class, he got a raised brow in question at the coat, but Sylvain just shrugged.

“It was actually a bit nippy this morning,” he lied. He could tell Felix didn’t believe him—it was the smirk.

After the lecture started and Felix was absorbed in his notes, Sylvain picked up his coat and draped it over Felix’s shivering form. He said and did nothing else, and went back to his own notes after it was secure around Felix’s shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Felix glaring at him, but after a moment he put his arms into the sleeves and settled into the coat.

In between subjects, Felix leaned over and muttered, “Thank you,” and then never mentioned it again.

Sylvain brought his coat to class every day. Felix didn’t even ask before slipping into it before lecture started. Sylvain pretended that he didn’t push his face into the coat every night, nor did he whine when he washed the coat with the rest of his laundry on his free day.

* * *

Sylvain accepted every dance he was offered as the night went on, but the one person he wanted to dance with was suspiciously absent from the White Heron Ball. Okay, maybe not suspicious at all—this was _Felix_ afterall, and he had just won the White Heron Cup not a few days ago. If he showed his face, everyone would be begging for a dance and the goddess knows the poor man couldn’t handle a crowd on a good day.

And so, as the song ended, he spun Ingrid one last time, gave her a bow and a flirtatious wink, and then she laughed and shoved him toward the door. “Go find him,” she said. “He’s probably waiting for you.”

Sylvain doubted it, but still held the dreams and wishes in his heart. As he left the hall, he got excited gestures from Annette and Ashe, a wink from Claude, and a nudge in the right direction from _Lorenz_ of all people.

“I saw him earlier in the courtyard by the Knight’s quarters.”

Sure enough, Felix was there, sitting at one of the tea tables with a book. The candles lit in the courtyard gave a soft glow to the space. Felix looked strangely comfortable in his formalwear, clothes of the like he hadn’t seen Felix in since Duscur. Comfortable or not, it was still odd to see Felix with his hair down—still tied back and out of his face, but allowed to fall on his shoulders for the night.

Sylvain wondered who he had to thank for that decision. Probably Annette. Felix liked Annette.

“Finished with your dancing, then?”

Sylvain tucked his hands in his pockets and leaned against the pillar of the pergola. “Nah. Just looking for one last partner.”

The flush that dusted Felix’s nose and cheeks was adorable. “I see.”

“You haven’t danced with anyone tonight.”

Felix closed his book and set it on the table. He couldn’t seem to make eye contact. “I was waiting for the right partner.”

Sylvain chuckled. “My apologies,” he said. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Who said it was you?”

“Ah, my bad. I’ll just go back to the ball then.” Sylvain almost felt bad about this, but Felix put himself in this corner. He turned to walk away and said over his shoulder, “I’ll see you around, Felix.”

“Wait, Sylvain!” Felix sounded almost panicked, the chair scraping on the ground as he hurried to stand.

Sylvain, of course, turned back around, smirking. He waited.

And waited.

He could wait all night.

Could wait forever.

 _Would_ wait forever, if that was what Felix needed.

Felix stepped slowly around the table, stopped in front of him, and took a few deep breaths. Then, he said, “Would you...ah, dance? With me?” Felix couldn’t look above Sylvain’s collar but that was _fine_ because he’d asked.

He took Felix’s hands in his own, placed their arms where they needed to go, and whispered, “I thought you’d never ask.” And though the orchestra was muffled from the distance and the walls, he was allowed to lead Felix through the steps of a dance they’d both learned when they were children.

And when that song ended, and another one started, their hands changed positions; and this time, he followed Felix’s lead through different steps.

And they danced together again, and again, and again, until the orchestra stopped playing and the candles burned out in the courtyard. Until they weren’t dancing so much as holding each other and swaying while Sylvain hummed odd folk tunes from Gautier. Until the sky began to lighten with the coming dawn and Felix finally lifted his head from where it had fallen hours ago, comfortably resting against Sylvain’s collarbone.

Sylvain couldn’t help pressing a fond kiss to Felix’s forehead. “I didn’t think we’d get here this fast.”

Felix slipped a hand behind Sylvain’s head and finally caught eyes with him. “I’ve been waiting for _you_ , Sylvain,” he said. “Don’t put this on me.”

“You? What???”

“I’ve been pining after you for years,” Felix groaned. “I just gave up being obvious about it after we enrolled here.”

Sylvain sighed, shook his head, laughed humorlessly. “Goddess I’ve been blind, huh?”

“Perhaps,” Felix allowed. He pulled Sylvain down further so their lips were almost brushing. “I love you regardless.” And then, he kissed Sylvain, light and sweet.

Sylvain smiled against Felix’s lips, tightened his arms around Felix’s body. “Say it again,” he asked.

“I love you,” Felix said, and kissed him again.

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“ _Again_.”

Felix's laughter was pure and made his heart soar.


End file.
